


(Quitting Is) Easier With You

by lasersheith



Series: Easier with you [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, veterans keith and shiro, warning for smoking mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:48:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29123673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasersheith/pseuds/lasersheith
Summary: The hardest part of quitting smoking is learning what your triggers are and why you want to smoke in the first place. Shiro thinks he knows his.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Matt Holt & Shiro
Series: Easier with you [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/999762
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	(Quitting Is) Easier With You

**Author's Note:**

> hey I'm not dead! Writing is hard lmao
> 
> I haven't decided where exactly this takes place in their relationship so it might move around in the series.

“Absolutely not!” 

Matt’s voice held far more venom than Shiro had heard in it for a very long time. It felt far away, like almost everything else did after the shovel full of pills he choked down every day since  _ it  _ happened. He tried to remember if Matt always sounded that way or if it was new or if it was just this. 

Something must have shown on Shiro’s face that he hadn’t intended, because Matt’s fiery expression smouldered and then was extinguished. “Look,” he said, soft, softer even than the blanket piled up over Shiro’s legs and torso. “You know I wanna help you. Always. And not because I owe you anything, don’t give me that stupid face you always give me when I try to talk about what happened.” 

A twinge of agitation panged at the back of Shiro’s mind and he wanted to get angry at the implication, even though he knew it was true, but as soon as the anger flared it was gone. 

“I’m not going to buy you cigarettes.” He forced out each word with careful annunciation, doing his best not to let that venom seep back in. Shiro wasn’t sure if he appreciated it or not. “If you really want them, you have to get out of bed and go get them yourself. Your lungs are already trashed and part of that is my fault, so I’m not gonna add to it. If you’re determined to kill yourself like that you could at least use it as motivation to get some vitamin D.” 

Shiro huffed out a bitter laugh, punctuated with a cough. The coughing always got worse before it got better every time he tried to quit. His shoulder ached and he felt the burning, tingling sensation spread down his bicep, past where his logical mind knew there was only air. 

Matt looked angry for a moment, crossing the distance from the doorway to the bed in three long strides, caring little for the piles of trash and clothing he kicked up in his wake. He landed hard on the edge of Shiro’s bed and Shiro really looked at him for the first time in weeks. There were flecks of gray in his brownish red hair that hadn’t been there before. It reminded him of Sam. So did the faint lines around Matt’s mouth and eyes and all around his forehead. Laughter lines. Shiro was almost jealous. Maybe he could earn those laughter lines someday, earn them with the happiness and joy he almost wasn’t sure he believed he could still feel. 

“I’m gonna level with you, because you’re my best friend and I love the fuck out of you,” Matt started, eyes darting from Shiro’s to rest awkwardly on the cheap plastic headboard behind him. “Even though I was an egghead, I still had to do my time in the barracks. I can handle the man-funk. I can even handle the old food smell. I gotta be honest, man. You smell like ass. Like someone took a sweaty jockstrap and marinated it in dip spit sprinkled with funyuns.” His eyes returned to Shiro’s and the earnestness there made the absurd statement feel profound. 

Shiro wanted to laugh, but all that came out was a sputtering cough, finished with a wheeze. Matt sighed. They sat in silence for a long moment. 

“Can you help me to the bathroom?” Shiro murmured, voice so low he was worried Matt wouldn’t hear him. 

But Matt always seemed to hear him. “Yup. Come on, smelly, let’s get you outta here.” He popped up like he’d been struck with a cattle prod and reached both his hands out for Shiro’s, wiggling his fingers. 

Shiro smiled and slapped his palm into the center of Matt’s, letting the much smaller man half-drag him out of bed. The room spun and his stomach roiled, but what Matt lacked in height and bulk, he made up for in stability, as always. Once the worst of it had passed, Matt pulled Shiro’s arm across his shoulders and helped him stagger into the bathroom. 

The shower had only the tiniest of lips to step over and the clear curtain slid easily over the rod. The military had beaten any sense of modesty or shyness relating to nudity out of Shiro by the time he was 19, and Matt had seen his fair share of scarred and unwashed soldiers on the field. They didn’t even have to talk about it as Matt helped him onto the shower stool. It was cold against his naked, heated skin but quickly warmed up as the hot water filled the small room with steam. The humidity made the cough worse. 

“Can you handle this part, or do you need me?” 

Shiro breathed in and out, a ragged, harsh whining sound he hated, before answering. “I’m good. Can you grab me some clothes though?” 

Matt left and Shiro let the water run over him, let his lungs fill with the steamy air and coughed and coughed and coughed until he thought he would choke. The smell of the cheap strawberry shampoo from the drugstore assaulted his nose and he dropped the bottle, watching the pink liquid drip, drip, drip for a long moment before he picked it up again and situated it between his knees. 

His long hair made a dark curtain around his face, blocking most of his vision and wouldn’t stay back when he leaned over no matter what he did. Shame washed over him in waves, chilling the hot water into ice as it crashed down over his skin. Matt came back with the clean clothes, dropped them on the floor without a word and picked up the bottle. 

Shiro’s face burned and his skin bristled as Matt washed his hair. He hated feeling so helpless. He knew what he needed to do but his body betrayed him time and time again. He hadn’t been able to properly cry in weeks, not since the last time his morning cocktail was adjusted, but he felt tears prick his eyes. 

Matt could tell he was crying even though his shoulders were still and his ragged wheezes didn’t contain a hint of a sob. Once Shiro’s hair was clean, he left the bathroom as quietly he’d come. 

It took a little while for the tears to stop, and once they did Shiro found that he felt a little better. The hair was the worst part. He could do everything else himself with little difficulty and the soapy washcloth felt like heaven against his dirty skin. Even the normally-humiliating way he had to twist his arm up like a monkey to wash his armpit didn’t seem quite so bad. 

Clean and in relatively better spirits, Shiro sat in the shower for a while longer, even deciding eventually to try out the conditioner Colleen had gotten him. It was in a pump bottle, like his soap. Much easier to use with only one hand. 

The water heater had finally worked itself to exhaustion and Shiro stood carefully, thankful for the sturdy metal rail Matt had installed when they first moved in. It was colder with the water off, and Shiro dried himself as best he could, hair still dripping when he gave up and got dressed.

His hair was practically a mane, something you’d find on a wild animal after a sudden rainstorm. He couldn’t go to a barber. There was something about the noise and the feeling of scissors behind his back where he couldn’t see that set him on edge and made his stomach drop. 

The thick-handled brush was easy to hold and Matt had wrapped it in some kind of gripping tape that made it easier not to drop while Shiro dragged it through his tangles. If Colleen had been there, Shiro knew she would be teasing him, scolding him not to be so rough with his beautiful hair. He liked it when she brushed his hair; she never made him feel like she was doing him a favor. 

Fog still covered the small mirror but it didn’t matter. Shiro didn’t want to look at himself anyway. Matt already knew he was a mess, it was alright if he looked it. At least he was clean for the first time in days and days. 

Matt had his laptop sitting up on the kitchen counter when Shiro finally made his way downstairs. “Hey, look at you! Almost down right presentable,” Matt said with a sideways grin. 

Shiro smiled despite himself. “The brush almost won but I think we can call it a tie.” 

Matt laughed and handed him a protein drink. He could tell it was one of those days and Shiro desperately needed the calories. He didn’t want calories, though, he wanted a cigarette. Maybe 12. He choked it down as fast as humanly possible, willing the thick, vanilla-flavored goo to stay in his stomach even though it wanted to make a speedy reappearance. The nausea came and went as fast as his moods lately. 

“So look, while you were,” Matt paused, waving his hand in the air as if he could catch the words he was searching for and pluck them from the space between them. “Beautifying. I did some research.” 

Shiro chose not to comment on the phrasing he landed on, instead raising an eyebrow. It was a complete toss up whether Matt’s “research” would bode well for him or not. 

“And by research I mean, I watched 4 TEDx talks on double speed while making brownies,” Matt amended at Shiro’s skeptical glance. “And everyone seems to agree that the worst part of quitting smoking is figuring out what makes you want to smoke so you can find some other way to do that thing instead. That’s like, the whole trick, I guess.” 

The small silver lighter seemed to grow in density until it felt like a singularity in Shiro’s pocket. He couldn’t help but wrap his hand around it, letting his thumb trace the Ace of Spades symbol before flipping it over to trace the craggy  _ K.K.  _ carved into the back with a dull pocket knife. 

“Makes about as much sense as anything, I guess,” Shiro finally said into the awkward silence that had stretched between them. 

“So… what do you think you want to do instead?” 

Shiro’s heart did a backflip in his chest, ping-ponging off of his ribs. “If you make fun of me, I swear to Christ…” 

“We both know you don’t give a shit about that, but threat well-taken. I’m just here to help, not mock.” Matt’s cheeky grin suggested otherwise, but Shiro decided to take him at his word. 

“You remember,” Shiro paused, licking his lips and taking a deep breath. “You remember that guy I told you about? From the VA?” 

Matt nodded, giving Shiro space to continue if he wanted. He didn’t even look like he was bursting to make a joke. Shiro was grateful.

“We smoked together outside before group the first time. I guess… I guess it just felt good to be around him.”  _ To be around someone who didn’t look at me with pity  _ Shiro tactfully didn’t add. 

The smile on Matt’s face bloomed into one of his increasingly rare (at least around Shiro, he thought bitterly), genuine looks of joy. The ones that made those lines on his eyes and forehead. One of the good ones. “Call him, dummy.” 

Shiro laughed. A real laugh. It hurt his stomach and made him cough and was over too soon but it felt  _ good.  _ “Yeah, okay,” he said, patting his pocket and finding only the lighter. 

Matt stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry. “Your phone’s on your dresser. You left it in the hamper yesterday and I almost washed it. It was dead so I put it on the charger.”

“Thanks, mom,” Shiro called as he turned, heading back up the stairs and feeling more playful than annoyed. The harsh stab of nicotine withdrawal seemed to ebb at the prospect of seeing Keith. 

“You’re welcome dear. Make sure you use protection!” Matt yelled up the stairs after him.

* * *

Keith picked up the phone on the second ring. 

“Hey Shiro.” 

Shiro’s heart was pounding so hard in his chest he worried Keith might hear it. “Hey,” he answered awkwardly, unsure of what to say now that he’d finally worked up the courage to call. 

Only a second or two went by but the uncomfortable silence felt like it lasted a decade. “I uh,” Shiro started, voice catching on an unexpected cough. 

“You okay?” 

Even though he’d only seen Keith a few times, he could picture the furrowed brows and tight line Keith’s mouth would make as he asked. It sent the butterflies in Shiro’s stomach tumbling. 

“Yeah, sorry. That’s kind of why I’m calling,” Shiro cringed at how awkward he sounded. “I wanted to return your lighter.” 

“Oh.” 

The simple sound carried the deep pang of disappointment and it sent shockwaves of pain down Shiro’s spine. “Not because I don’t like it, it’s been really helpful. I’m trying to quit, that’s why I’m coughing so much. I figured if I kept the lighter around it would be too much temptation and since it’s so nice, and was a gift from you, I didn’t want to just throw it away,” Shiro rambled, catching himself and gritting his teeth together for a brief moment. “And uh… well I’d like to see you. If you have time.” 

Three heartbeats passed in what seemed like a lifetime. 

“Generally don’t have much going on. Wanna grab dinner later?” 

Shiro had already been thankful beyond expression for Matt pulling him out of bed and into the shower, but his gratitude expanded a hundredfold in that moment. “Sure. Just name the time and place.” 

They settled on a hole in the wall pizza place Keith knew within walking distance of Shiro’s place and chatted a little. Once they were off the phone, Shiro dragged himself back into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair looked fine, despite his battle with the brush, and the shirt Matt had picked for him fit well. The scar across his nose seemed less of an angry purple today, clearly on the beginning of the journey to pink. His eyes didn’t seem quite as sunken as he remembered either. Black and blue bags still puffed underneath them, but they looked less haunted and more like he just needed a few good nights of sleep. 

What was most shocking in Shiro’s seldom-seen reflection though, was the unconscious uptick at the corner of his mouth, his lip blending into a tiny line from his smile. 


End file.
